Memories and Melaine My youngest Daughter In the meantime

Below is the poem entitled Memories and Melaine My youngest Daughter In the meantime which was written by poet
William J. Jr.
Atfield. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

Taking a stroll, this day, through the pages of time.Time that has passed into history, a history that is yours and mine.That history, my Dear, are the memories, and the thoughts of a timewhen a little of you, your life, your excitement was mineto live in, to delight in, to give to, to participate in, in that great adventure of a developing little Girl.A little Girl, who needed so much more in her world,much more than this poor excuse for a dad, gave.Sadness to the grave, will I be, for all that I let slip by,slip out of sight, never touched by the hands of this old man.So much that never became a gleam in my eye.

Now, what never was, will never be !,lost forever !, never to feel, never to see !As I sit here, empty and alone, with meand my memories, speaking in fleeting whispers,in words, in word pictures that projectthe history of my family, as I tried to protect,with my life, as I see it before me, in ten thousand three hundred photo stories that lay upon two thousand,seven hundred pages of words and pictures that explain,project, enlighten and give life to the thoughts and pain

of those memories, those experiences, these photos, to anyone who will, one day, get to see, in painful sight,that compares not, to the pain felt, as you took flight, a flight that is never to soar from this little soul, this beautiful Being,this Girl Child of mine who’s name sings out in Melanie,to tunes that I my never hear the sweet sounds of her melody.Melanie, bound up, unable to be set free of the chainsthat weigh her down, keep her from turning around, claimsher fragile soul, keeps it in a place, on a plane where her wingsare unable to spread, to soar, carry her spirit above experience and sings.

The songs I would love to hear before I go,These sights I would love to see, a world to knowis that my Daughter’s wings spread to showthat my analysis, my understandings will flowout of my thoughts and to believe that one day, it will be so !

In the meantime

You slip in and out of my sightlike a wisp of wind, caught by the light,like smoke waves, particles of dust floating by,like ghosts in the sky brushing past the corner of my eye,lightly touching my lips with a Daughterly, kiss – oh, how this, I will surly will miss –then off again like a whirlwind, to escape,- my heart, my soul, my spirit, this doth rape –to the life of a teenage Girl, blown by the wind– for this Mr. Mom, it seems a sin –to the four corners of this world, life’s experience, and I wonder what will be your dance ?, and if you will ever know the essence of true romance ? My expectations !, expeditions and adventures intoyour thoughts, desires, dreams and in a direction you may guide yourself into a future I am unable to see, nor one in which you will confide in me.

I am truly sorry Melanie, that any of what might be good in me, I did not give, to make live within you all that is within you, that sometimes I do not see in my state of blindness. This, to you I must confess !!! These things, my Dear, I look for, hope will be,- but cannot seem to see – may never set you free.

These, the thoughts of You, even if the sight

is brief, the numbers few and far between – in your hasty retreat, flight from any close encounter – brings a warm glow of light to the long, empty days I’ve seen and helps makes my life a little sounder, bringing to an otherwise gloomy life, rife with so much unnecessary, pointless strife, thoughts and feelings that carry me through my days and long, long nights of wonder, what will be your ways ?

Memories and Melaine My youngest Daughter In the meantime

Memories And Melanie .
My youngest Daughter
Taking a stroll, this day, through the pages of time.
Time that has passed into history, a history that is yours and mine.
That history, my Dear, are the memories, and the thoughts of a time
when a little of you, your life, your excitement was mine
to live in, to delight in, to give to, to participate in,
in that great adventure of a developing little Girl.
A little Girl, who needed so much more in her world,
much more than this poor excuse for a dad, gave.
Sadness to the grave, will I be, for all that I let slip by,
slip out of sight, never touched by the hands of this old man.
So much that never became a gleam in my eye.
Now, what never was, will never be !,
lost forever !, never to feel, never to see !
As I sit here, empty and alone, with me
and my memories, speaking in fleeting whispers,
in words, in word pictures that project
the history of my family, as I tried to protect,
with my life, as I see it before me, in ten thousand
three hundred photo stories that lay upon two thousand,
seven hundred pages of words and pictures that explain,
project, enlighten and give life to the thoughts and pain,
of those memories, those experiences, these photos,
to anyone who will, one day, get to see, in painful sight,
that compares not, to the pain felt, as you took flight,
a flight that is never to soar from this little soul, this beautiful Being,
this Girl Child of mine who’s name sings out in Melanie,
to tunes that I my never hear the sweet sounds of her melody.
Melanie, bound up, unable to be set free of the chains
that weigh her down, keep her from turning around, claims
her fragile soul, keeps it in a place, on a plane where her wings
are unable to spread, to soar, carry her spirit above experience and sings.
The songs I would love to hear before I go,
These sights I would love to see, a world to know
is that my Daughter’s wings spread to show
that my analysis, my understandings will flow
out of my thoughts and to believe that one day, it will be so !
In the meantime
You slip in and out of my sight
like a wisp of wind, caught by the light,
like smoke waves, particles of dust floating by,
like ghosts in the sky brushing past the corner of my eye,
lightly touching my lips with a Daughterly, kiss
– oh, how this, I will surly will miss –
then off again like a whirlwind, to escape,
- my heart, my soul, my spirit, this doth rape –
to the life of a teenage Girl, blown by the wind
– for this Mr. Mom, it seems a sin –
to the four corners of this world, life’s experience,
and I wonder what will be your dance ?,
and if you will ever know the essence of true romance ?
My expectations !, expeditions and adventures into
your thoughts, desires, dreams and in a direction you
may guide yourself into a future I am unable to see,
nor one in which you will confide in me.
I am truly sorry Melanie, that any of what might be
good in me, I did not give, to make live within you
all that is within you, that sometimes I do
not see in my state of blindness.
This, to you I must confess !!!
These things, my Dear, I look for, hope will be,
- but cannot seem to see – may never set you free.
These, the thoughts of You, even if the sight
is brief, the numbers few and far between
– in your hasty retreat, flight
from any close encounter –
brings a warm glow of light
to the long, empty days I’ve seen
and helps makes my life a little sounder,
bringing to an otherwise gloomy life, rife
with so much unnecessary, pointless strife,
thoughts and feelings that carry me through my days
and long, long nights of wonder, what will be your ways ?
Shine on my Beauty !!!
Love Dad
B. J. “A ” 2
November 6th 2001`